A Sword from Red Ice

An excited murmur passed through and then beyond the room Within exactly a minute, Raina reckoned, everyone in the entire roundhouse would know the news. Ganmiddich under attack by city men. Would the ill tidings never stop?

"Arlec,Cleg."

Gooseflesh erupted on Raina's arms and shoulders at the sound of her husband's voice. Mace Blackhail the Hail Wolf, had emerged from his parley in the greathearth. Dressed in Scarpe-dyed suede tunic embossed with wolf fangs, he took the stone stairs swiftly, without sound. Already aware that the chance for secrecy had been lost, he fired off his first question.

"Which city?"

Cleg swallowed nervously. Arlec spoke. "Spire Vanis."

A murmur of fear darkened the room. This was not the answer an had expected. It was no secret that Ille Glaive, the City on the Lake, had long had its eye on the wealthy border clans, but Spire Vanis? What were the Spire King and his army doing so far north?

If Mace was surprised he did not show it. Nodding once he said "And their numbers?"

Cleg swallowed again. His lore was the red-footed goose and he wore what might have been one of their desiccated feet, hooked through a ring in his ear. "We counted eleven thousand before we left."

This time Mace raised a pale hand, halting the murmur before it started. He was wearing the Clansword, Raina realized, the weapon forged from the crown of the Dhoone kings. Someone had made him a scabbard for it; a finely glazed strip of silverized leather with a she-wolf tail trailing from its tip. "We have five hundred warriors there. Ax-and hammermen. Ten dozen bowmen. And there is the Crab's own army. Once rallied he can command two thousand."

Arlec nodded. "And there's a half-dozen Crosermen who once wore the cowls."

Cowlmen. Raina shivered; she was not the only one to do so. Cowlmen were legend in the clanholds, and the border clans east of Ganmiddich were known to have the best of them. Trained assassins, siegebreakers, crack bowmen, spies, and masters of concealment, they were named after the gray hooded cloaks they swathed themselves in on their missions. As far as Raina knew Blackhail had none of them. The big northern giants—Blackhail, Dhoone and Bludd—traditionally preferred might over ambushes, snares and assassinations. Smaller border clans could not afford the luxury of clannish pride. They were threatened by rival clans to the north and the Mountain Cities to the south, and had fewer numbers with which to defend themselves. Cowlmen were their way of evening the odds. According to the ranger Angus Lok their numbers were in decline and few young men were being trained to the cowl. Yet strangely enough this only added to their mystique. One glance around this hallway was enough to see that.

"Good," Mace said. "So the Crab heeded my advice." Scarpemen and Hailsmen nodded judiciously, and Raina could tell that implication of Mace's remark-that he had been the one to advise Crab Ganmiddich to bring cowlmen into his house-sat well with them. Their chief was always thinking that extra step ahead.

For some reason Mace chose to look Raina's way just then. Wife, he mouthed for her eyes alone. She met his gaze, but it cost her. Instantly information passed between them. He was aware that she alone knew that everything he said here was a manipulation of the truth, including his remark about the cowlmen. He had never told any such thing to the Crab chief. How could he? They had never met man-to-man. To counter this damning knowledge, he simply let his memories of what happened in the Old wood dwell for the briefest moment in his eves. It was a weapon she had no defense against, that pleasure he took in what he had done to her, and she was first to break contact and look away. Every time they shared a moment like this it robbed a part of her soul.

He knew it too, and it was as if whatever vitality she lost he gained. Turning back to Arlec he asked, "And the repairs to the Crab Gate?"

"Done. But the riverwall needs"

"The riverwall is of little consequence," Mace said, cutting the young hammerman short. "Drey and the Crab are sitting well. They should be able to hold out until we arrive with more men."

Several things happened to Arlec's face as he listened to his chief speak. First he had wanted to interrupt him, Raina was sure of it, point out that his chief was mistaken, and that the riverwall did indeed count and here was why. Second, he had begun to nod in agreement when Mace said that Drey and the Crab were currently secure. And third, his cheeks had flushed with excitement at the words "until we arrive with more men"

All around the entrance hall men uncradled their hammers and axes and unsheathed their swords. Someone—perhaps old and crotchety Turby Flapp-cried, "Kill Spire!" and then the thudding began. Hammer and ax butts were struck against the walls and floor with force. After a few second all the impacts fell in time and a single, thumping war charge echoed through the Hailhouse.

"Kill Spiret Kill Spire! Kill Spire!"